The room was dark, the only light came in brief flashes from the storm outside—harsh white streaks followed by low, rumbling thunder. The wind howled through the trees like a chorus of ghosts, but inside, all was meant to be still. Silent.

Until the door creaked open.

Small feet padded cautiously across the floor. William stirred under the blankets, his brows already furrowed before he even opened his eyes.

A sigh. Sharp. Tired. Irritated.

"Evan... You really love to ruin my nights, don’t you?"

His voice was low, scratchy with sleep and barely held patience. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly, the covers falling from his shoulders as the next flash of lightning illuminated the room.

Evan stood there, stiff, clearly scared. William looked at him in silence for a second too long, then exhaled again—longer this time, more controlled.

"Let me guess." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Monsters under the bed? No? This time... it's the storm?"

He shook his head and ran a hand down his face, clearly done with this conversation before it even started.

"You know this place gets storms all the time. I thought you were used to it by now." He glanced toward the rain tapping the window like impatient fingers "But clearly, you're not."

He leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed, eyeing the trembling child at the foot of his bed.

"Well? What now? You're just going to stand there and shiver, or do you plan on wasting the rest of my night too?"